


A Hairy Situation

by levele3



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cats, F/M, Gen, Human AU, Magic, Magical Realism, Multi, Rainy Days, Witches, magical transformation, people turning into animals, transformations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-09-13 17:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9134056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levele3/pseuds/levele3
Summary: With the good intentions of protecting her from her ex-fiance, the Primrose Street Witch, Plum transforms her co-worker's sister into a cat. Plum soon discovers she's made a terrible mistake when she can't find Marianne anywhere.Bog King owns the Dark Forest Record shop, down the street from Sugar Plum's, he stopped looking for love a long time ago but finds he doesn't have the heart to leave a poor lost kitten out in the rain.Marianne had been perfectly happy in her misery, now unexpectedly turned into a cat and then subsequently taken hostage by a tree of a man she finds herself in a hairy situation...





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [That Fateful Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6124679) by [jupiter23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter23/pseuds/jupiter23). 



> Formally Cat!Marianne AU (on Tumblr)- Still not satisfied with the title, open to suggestions. 
> 
> I dedicate chapter one to jupiter23 as I make a reference to the amazingness that is That Fateful Night.

Bog: 

Bog closed and locked the door to the Dark Forest Record shop with more force than necessary. Why did _she_ always do this to him? He had just got off the phone with his mother; they’d had _that_ conversation again. The one where she told him she didn’t like to see him _“sad and alone”_. She had suggested that maybe if he wasn’t going to try dating any time soon than he should at least get a pet. He left the sanctuary of the awning and walked out into the pouring rain. The dark and damp day suited his mood just fine. A dense fog wound its way through the streets and the rain was coming down in slanted sheets; Bog tucked his pointed chin into his coat collar, trying to lessen the sting of the wind.  His short black hair was soaked within minutes and he knew his ears must be red from the cold.  

He was nearing his apartment when a stranger bumped into him on the sidewalk. Bog turned to see a blonde haired man making a mad-dash for his forest green sports car, clearly loath to be caught out in the rain. The man didn’t even turn to say sorry. Bog wondered which of the little shops the man had emerged from. Surely he was too pretentious to have been in _Sugar Plum’s,_ a sort of New Age shop where you could buy anything from tarot readings and incense to statues of Buda and “genuine” spell books. The eccentric woman who ran the shop once informed Bog he’d survived the _Titanic_ sinking in his past life. This would have been cool if Bog believed in such things. She’d also told him he’d meet his soulmate “soon” and that they always met later in life after they’d been quote: “tested by unworthy lovers”. Bog didn’t believe in soulmates either.

Bog had just passed the little mystic shop that sat adjacent to his apartment building when he heard crying coming from the alley that separated the two buildings. Bog glanced down the deserted dead-end side street but saw nothing except cardboard boxes and trash. He almost walked by when he heard the cry again, this time he looked down to find a rather small cat trying to take shelter under a box. The poor thing was soaked from being caught out in the rain. Bog liked animals well enough but he’d never owned one, and at 36 he could barely look after himself let alone another living creature, but his mother’s words came back to him.  

Maybe if he had something to look after, something to look forward too his own existence wouldn’t be such a burden. Clearly it was fate that put this poor creature in his path today. Bog was not one for animal cruelty, and it _would_ be cruel to leave it out in this weather. Before he could think it over too much Bog bent down and scooped up the little thing in his rough and cold hands. The cat let out an ear-splitting screech and struggled somewhat at being manhandled but was too weak to protest as Bog tucked it inside his jacked, holding the little thing close to his chest. They’d be inside soon, he’d dry it off, warm it up best he could. Feed it.

 _Shit! Feed it?_ He didn’t have cat food he barely had people food.  

The cat put up a decent fight as Bog tried to wrap it up in a towel, he suffered several scratches to his forearm, as well as his nose and cheek, until it realised he was trying to help it, then it became oddly compliant. Bog dug though his cupboard until he found a can of tuna. He took half and mixed it up with some mayonnaise and slathered it onto two pieces of white bread for himself, the rest he put in a bowl and brought it over the cat.

The cat was oddly curious, intelligent eyes seemed to watch his every move, as though she knew what he was doing. _She?_ Bog shook his head, where had that thought come from, he didn’t know the gender of the cat, didn’t know the first thing about how to find out. The cat was still watching him, regarding the dish in one hand and his sandwich in the other. Her eyes were amber with specks of gold in them, not that unusual, for a cat, he thought. _Her?_ He’d done it again.

Now that’s its fur was dry Bog could see it was a Calico, a dark brown highlighted with caramel. Nor did it seem so small with its fur fluffed out.

The rain pounded against the window and Bog saw the cat shiver, gazing out at the storm in wide-eye fear. He sat down on the couch next to the cat, taking great pains to make every move slow and deliberate. The little thing had been traumatized enough for one day. Gently he set the dish bearing the tuna down between them. The cat sniffed at the dish in a way he could only describe as suspicious but didn’t touch it until he took a bite of his own poorly constructed sandwich.  

As she began licking up the tuna, her little pink tongue darting out, Bog finally relaxed into the back of the sofa. He was bone weary, still dressed in his wet and cold jeans. It would take a hot shower and a hot cup of tea to warm him up properly. Out of habit he grabbed the TV remote and flicked it on. Bog scrolled through the guide hoping to find something watchable, TBS was running a _Friends_ marathon so Bog switched it over to that. _Friends_ was always good for a laugh, it didn’t matter he’d seen every episode, most of them more than once. It was one of the Thanksgiving specials; Bog couldn’t be bothered to check which One. He was laughing at one of Chandler’s jokes when he felt pressure on his leg and a weight settle on his chest.  

He looked down to see the stray there and his eyes went wide with wonder. There was no telling what she had been through, _abused? Abandoned? Born stray?_ All these thoughts raced through Bogs mind, _was he the first human to ever show this creature a trace of gratitude?_ Cautiously he brought his hand up and laid it on her head, she didn’t move. With all the tenderness he could manage he rubbed it down the length of her lithe body, the cat arched at his touch and purred in delight when he settled his hand on her head again, scratching at her ears. Her fur was medium length, and silky-smooth to the touch. The repetitive motion was relaxing for both him and the cat apparently, who had shut its eyes in contentment.  

“Ye’re a tough little girl, aren’t ye?” Bog said to the cat, a gentle gruffness to his voice.

He still didn’t know for sure, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that the cat was indeed female.  

***

Meanwhile in the mystic shop next door… 

Plum: 

Plum was crawling around her shop on her hands and knees, looking under every bookcase, every silk scarf.

“Marianne? Marianne?” She called out softly, “the evil man is gone now.” She cooed.  

 _Damn it where was she?_ The shop wasn’t that big, there were only so many places a cat could hide. Dawn was going to _kill_ her. Dawn was Plum’s part-time employee, and neighbour who rented a room in the ancient apartment building next door. Dawn’s sister Marianne had recently moved in after breaking off her engagement. A few days ago Plum had got a premonition that Marianne’s ex would come looking for her. Dawn was going to be gone on vacation for a week with her boyfriend Sunny and Plum had panicked; she _needed_ to protect Marianne.  

So, early this morning she had dropped by the apartment and performed a simple spell over a sleeping Marianne, transforming her into a cat. To say the least Marianne was _not_ impressed. She’d hissed and lashed out with her newfound claws, scratching up Plum pretty good. Fearing she’d destroy the apartment if left alone Plum had brought her to work with her in the mystic shop.

Marianne proceeded to follow Plum around the store alternately hissing and meowing loudly. Demanding no doubt to be turned back, Plum didn’t know; she didn’t understand _cat_. Marianne had made herself scarce when a blonde-haired, green-eyed ponce swaggered in out of the rain. _The ex._  He was positively dripping in bad karma, his chakra way out of alignment.

He had pulled his thin lips into what Plum assumed he believed to be a charming smile that came far too easy to be natural. He’d tried being sweet and polite and spoke with the air of someone used to getting their way. When Plum didn’t give into his false charm his face twisted into something cruel and monstrous. His grin became a sneer and his green eyes darkened, but Plum had stood her ground when he demanded to speak to Marianne and answered truthfully that she wasn’t there. After nosing around for fifteen minutes he left in a huff clearly unsatisfied. She didn’t know what she would do if he came back to the shop, he’d been far too close as it was.

Plum had been so shaken by Roland’s visit she’d busied herself with making a cup of tea to calm her shattered nerves. It wasn’t until the wind picked up again and beat the rain against the front window of her shop did Plum think to look for the cat that was Marianne. A shiver wracked her petite frame; she didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“Marianne?” she hissed again, making her way to the even smaller storeroom, a broom cupboard really.  

A sense of dread and fear washed over Plum when she saw the tiny street level window had been left open, a ladder of boxes leading straight to it. She dashed outside and scoured the alleyway but it was no use in her heart she knew Marianne was gone. This was a problem. If Marianne wasn’t present Plum couldn’t reverse the spell. If Plum couldn’t reverse the spell Marianne would remain a cat. A cat now lost in a big city. Anything could happen to her.

Plum nervously sipped her tea as a flash of lightning illuminated the dark sky, she didn’t flinch at the roll of thunder that followed, but calmly reclaimed her seat. She would have to consult her crystal ball, or ask the cards. Marianne had only just shed herself of the negative influence of her no-good ex. While she still harboured some anger Plum was able to see that good things were about to come Marianne’s way.  Plum decided to give herself the week to find Marianne; if her searching proved fruitless she’d have to tell Dawn.

Dawn was going to kill her.

***

Marianne:

Marianne was a cat.

_How was this even possible?_

When Dawn had gushed about her new job working for a Witch, Marianne was needless to say a little sceptical. She would never doubt Plum again.  

She hadn’t liked it when Plum had picked her up and coddled her like, _well_ , a cat. She didn’t even know _why_ she was a cat, Plum just kept saying, “It’s for your own good” and “you’ll understand soon.”

Marianne had tried talking to Plum but her words had come out as cat sounds, mews of distress, and cries of anger. Eventually Marianne had settled down, having come to terms with the fact she’d be stuck as a cat for the remainder of the day at least. She had found a dark green poof y ottoman to call home and settled down to take a nap. Plum had woken her awfully early with the spell casting stunt.

She didn’t stir until late afternoon when Roland Greene, her disaster of an ex-fiancé strutted into Plum’s shop with an air of confidence. His putrid cologne was especially harsh on Marianne’s now much more sensitive nose and his physical presence had he dashing for the backroom. It was only late Marianne realized she should have attacked him with her new claws. _Flight or fight_ she thought, and I chose the wrong one. She would not make that mistake again.

Roland raised his voice and began threatening Plum, his ire rising with the storm. Marianne usually loved thunder storms but the booms were twice as loud on her little ears. Human rational left her mind for a moment and Marianne made a mad-dash up the stack of boxes and out an open street level window. It was her second mistake as a cat. The rain soaked through her fur in no time. The thought to go back through the window never even crossed her mind. Roland was in there, she would find shelter until the storm passed then make her way back to the shop. Satisfied Marianne took refuge under a cardboard box.

She began to curse her ex, Plum, the storm, and herself for the situation she had ended up in. It was a violent circle of abuse that had her producing a cry for help. At first she fought off the man who was attempting to rescue her, but she was cold and tired, and gave in as he tucked her into his coat to try and warm her. Marianne was surprised when he entered the apartment building where her sister lived, what a lucky coincidence.  

The man fed her some tuna, after rifling through his cupboards and fridge which Marianne noted looked pretty bare. Marianne was now dry and had a full belly but she was still cold, the storm outside continued to rage on, making her very fur shake. Marianne remembered how warm the man was and felt a little guilty about scratching him up so badly. Gingerly she stepped onto his leg then leapt to his chest. Just as cautiously he began to pet her, Marianne arched into his touch and said “thank-you” it came out as a purr.   


	2. Two

Marianne:

For the third day in a row Marianne woke up hoping she was dreaming, she wasn’t. Marianne cursed and yelled but all that came out was the sound of furious hissing. She stretched her feline body, extending her claws in the process and picked at the comforter. 

“Oi! Stop that” the man, whom Marianne had learned was named Bog, growled at her from under the covers. 

 _Oops_. Marianne had taken to falling asleep on Bog’s chest; it was really the only place she could get comfortable. 

He stirred underneath her struggling to sit up. Marianne stayed where she was, and swished her tail back and forth lazily.   

“A’right, Tough Girl, you win” Bog turned his head until his neck made a satisfying _crack_ then settled back down in bed. 

Marianne purred happily reclaiming her spot. 

“Ah can’t stay here all day ye know” Bog grumbled at her, “Ah’ve got ta go to work at some point.”

Marianne ignored him as a cat would, although her ears did perk up at the mention of his work. She had also discovered Bog owned the Dark Forest record shop that was just down the street. It was a place Marianne had been eager to check out when scouting the amenities around Dawn’s apartment. She hadn’t made it in before her transformation.

Decision made, Marianne leapt off the bed and stalked to the bedroom door and started meowing loudly. 

“Oh sure, now you want me to get up” Bog threw off the blankets and walked over to yank open the door for her. 

Marianne only felt a little guilty when she saw the tiny red marks on his bare chest from where she had accidently scratched him. Her wide cat eyes took in his tall and lean-yet-muscular form, all seven feet of him. Bog, she had discovered, slept absolutely stark naked, something she was increasingly thankful for. Marianne wound her way around his sock covered feet as Bog made his way into the tiny area of the apartment designated for the kitchen to turn on his coffee maker.  

Bog went about his usual morning routine, showering, drinking his coffee and he even managed to scarf down two pieces of toast and a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast. Marianne observed all of this with her new keen cat eyes. For a man of his size Bog didn’t really eat a lot in fact it seemed to her that he hardly kept any food in his cupboards at all. Bog had returned home yesterday with a bag full of canned cat food for which Marianne found herself lacking gratitude. 

“I am actually a person” she had tried to tell him, but Bog had only interpreted her cries of protest as cries of hunger. She ate the food.

She had learned the man’s name yesterday when a small army had invaded his apartment. Five very loud and boisterous people had forced their way into the tiny apartment, four men and a woman, who then proceeded to play Dungeons and Dragons for four hours with Bog as their DM. Marianne didn’t know much about the tabletop role playing game but had watched the happenings with mild interest. Marianne avoided contact with the guests hissing or taking a swipe at any that dared come too close.

At last Bog emerged from his bedroom fully dressed in black denim jeans and a grey t-shirt with a print of three black trees on it, the logo for his record store. Bog was humming something that sounded suspiciously like Deep Purple’s _Mistreated_ , a song he’d been belting out in the shower only half an hour ago. His voice had a gruff, and gritty quality to it that made Marianne’s hackles rise. 

Marianne watched from her perch on the kitchen counter as Bog made his way to the window and partially opened his blinds before turning on the old radio/ CD/ cassette player. The radio was tuned into the local rock station.

“There ye go, Tough Girl” Bog said, nodding in self-satisfaction, “something ta listen to whilst I’m at work.”  

As soon as Bog turned toward the door Marianne pounced. She weaved in and out of his legs and cried loudly.

“Take me with you, _please_ take me with you. I don’t want to be alone all day.” Marianne said things she imagined actual cats said when their owners were leaving them for the day.

Bog huffed in annoyance; this is exactly why he hadn’t wanted a pet. He moved his feet carefully trying not to trip himself up on the little fur ball. 

He looked down at the cat, who, was looking back up at him with wide, expectant eyes. If it hadn’t of been so contradictory, Bog would have said “puppy-dog eyes.”

 _It’s like she knows_ , he thought. 

“Ah cannae take ye ta work with me” Bog protested, albeit feebly. Other shops on the street had pets; the book store across from his had a pair of Love Birds named Han and Leia. Bog thought, _why not his_?

“Please” Marianne cried, Bog was caving, she could tell.

The meow produced by his cat was so pitiful Bog couldn’t help but to bend down and pick her up. With his two large hands firmly around her middle Bog held the cat out in front of him and looked it in the eye.

“A’right Tough Girl, you can come with me, but I’m warnin’ ye, no messes on the floor, or Ah’ll bring ye straight home.” Bog did his best impression of a strict parent, but it fell short in several aspects.

Marianne gave a cry of thanks and Bog maneuvered her around better to settle in the crook of his arm.   

***

Plum:

Plum had been having a harrowing few days. There was simply no sign of Marianne anywhere. Plum had searched the entire apartment building top to bottom in the hopes Marianne had made it back there but with no luck. Then yesterday she had begun to search the shelters, thinking Marianne may have gotten picked up by animal control. The Witch had even done a thorough search of the alleyway between her shop and the apartment building. This search had only yielded a small white kitten that was so dirty it was nearly black. Having gained sympathy for the poor dear Plum had brought him promptly back to her apartment and washed him off. He had too-big ears and wispy tail. She named him Imp.

She had also had a strange encounter with one of her tenants yesterday and something about it kept tickling the back of her mind. Plum had been bereft with grief after her fruitless search of the animal shelters and was wallowing in peace in the elevator when Bog King had joined her. He pressed the little 3 button and the doors closed with the sound of scraping metal, sending them upwards with ominous clicks and clangs.

It took Plum a minute to notice but something had seemed different about Bog. She gave him a quick once over but couldn’t pick out anything that appeared out of place. He had not been to the barber’s, the same ol’ limp black hair floated around his head, fringe occasionally falling into his eyes. As usual the hair on his pointed chin was somewhere between a couple hours to a day old. It never seemed to make it to full beard status. 

The elevator was old and slow giving Plum lots of time to play ‘spot the difference’. Suddenly she honed in on it, it wasn’t his physical appearance that had changed; it was his spiritual one. 

“So, have you met anyone new recently?” Plum asked, trying for innocent but her toothy smirk gave her away.

Bog appeared to actually think about it for a moment, giving his stubble covered chin a good long scratch, before replying in the negative, “No, Ah haven’t.”

“Oh” Plum tried not to sound too disappointed, she was sure the new change to his aura had been brought on by Bog finally meeting his soulmate in this life. 

Bog shuffled nervously next to her until a chime dinged signaling they had reached the third floor and the doors screeched open. Bog exited the elevator as if it were on fire, not wasting anytime. He didn’t even say good bye. 

 _Well how rude_ , plum thought. _Maybe I should curse him, teach him a lesson_. But with the cause of her ire no longer in view Plum’s anger dissipated, it wasn’t his fault she had lost Dawn’s sister, and she knew that was the true cause of her sudden temper. There was no point taking it out on Bog. That wouldn’t do any good and in the end she’d only be hurting herself, karma was a bitch. 

It wasn’t until later that night, much later, that Plum remembered Bog had been carrying a plain white plastic bag with tins of cat food in it. Bog King didn’t own a cat. 

***

Bog:

Despite his grumbling and initial misgivings Bog loved having the cat. He found himself wondering why he hadn’t got a pet sooner. He used to spend his nights tossing and turning, Bog had often been plagued by sleepless nights brought on by bad dreams. Now it seemed the warm weight of the cat sleeping on his chest grounded him. He fell asleep easier and felt more rested upon waking. It was a strange side-effect to pet ownership to be sure. Bog felt the change within him even though he couldn’t see a physical one. 

Bog currently stood behind his counter at the Dark Forest Record Shop watching his cat, _Tough Girl_ ; make her way around the shop. He watched her as she prowled along the bin of records, almost as if she was actually looking at them, how cute. The cat spent a lot of time ‘browsing’ the rock n’ roll section. 

It was a slow day at the store, he was expecting no deliveries, and the high school lunch hour rush had already come and gone. Bog had spent the morning organizing the records, dusting the shelves and had even taken a bottle of Windex and some paper towel to the windows and glass doors. At quarter after two Bog flicked on the electric kettle he kept in the back room, tossed a tea bag into a mostly clean mug and cracked open his latest read, _NOS4A2_ by Joe Hill. It was an interesting read to be sure.

Bog was just about to start a new chapter when the tinkling of the bell above the shop door alerted him to the presence of a customer. He looked up from his book to find a very tall, and very attractive woman entering his shop. She had long dark hair and wore a pair of fitted jeans with a black lacy, three-quarter length sleeve top. Bog fumbled sliding his bookmark between the pages, and took a hurried swig of tea to calm his sudden nerves. The tea had gone very cold, and the shock of it sent him into a coughing fit. _Smooth_.

It wasn’t often that Bog found himself immediately attracted to women he didn’t know. In fact it had been a long time since he’d found himself attracted to anybody. Bog thought that his heart was going to burst out of his chest at the rate it was beating. He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve this but it must have been something _really_ good.

The woman seemed to sense Bog staring at her and so she made her way over to the counter. Bog promptly stood up knocking his knee against the counter in his haste. He made a grimace at the pain now shooting up his leg but managed to give the customer a smile he hoped wasn’t too frightening. 

“Is there something Ah can help you find today?” he asked, perhaps a little too eagerly.

“Yes, actually” she said, speaking in a smooth, slightly accented voice. “I’m looking for” she held up a piece of paper and squinted at it, “Bog King. Apparently he works here, could you tell me please if he is in today?”  

The woman flashed him a brief polite smile that came off as more predatory than sweet.

Bog couldn’t believe his luck. There was a beautiful woman in his shop and she was looking for him!

“Ta’d be me” he said, his heartrate rising once more at his good fortune.

The woman gave an enthusiastic “excellent” accompanied by a knee weakening smile.  

The woman who was very close to Bog’s height leaned against his counter.

“I’m told you’re _the best_ ” she said in the hushed tones of a conspirator. She lowered her eyelids so that she was looking up at him through her lashes. 

Bog had never been seduced before and instead of leaning closer to the woman as he had been contemplating he backed away until his legs knocked against his chair as he stammered,

“Th-the best?” he asked, a hard gulp followed.

At that moment the cat landed playfully on the counter and startled Bog so that he slipped backwards and landed hard on his chair. 

“Yes, at finding rare records” the woman explained, her voice was sweet now, no longer predatory.  

She giggled softly at the chain reaction the cat had set off and stretched out her hand to pet the little minx, but the cat hissed softly and backed away to the far edge of the counter.

“Ah, right, records” Bog nodded, mostly to himself, as he set up his computer. He brushed off his lingering nerves and went into professional mode.  

At the cat’s hissing he looked up, “sorry about her, she doesn’t much like people.”

“Oh” the woman seemed surprised and maybe a little hurt, “probably for the best then, I’m allergic to cats anyway.” The woman’s tone was dismissive.

For a moment only the sound of Bog typing filled the shop, the cat sat idly by his keyboard and every so often Bog would lift his hand to scratch behind her ear.

“Alright, so, what were you looking for?” He asked.

The woman handed Bog a slip of paper and he instantly knew this was going to be a challenge. When she’d said rare… Bog was going to need days to find this record.

“This might take longer than I thought” Bog confessed, he looked up and noticed the woman was pouting.

“You will be able to find it for me, won’t you?” she asked, her eyes widening, seemingly of their own accord.

Bog’s neighbour, Dawn, did something similar when she wanted to get her way.

“Of course I’m going to try” Bog said neutrally, but he felt like a dog eagerly wagging his tail, ready to please this woman. 

“If you leave me yer name and number Ah can give you a call when it comes in.” Bog said with more conviction than he felt, and ignored the sudden warming of his face.    

His cat paraded up and down the counter waving her fluffy tail about haughtily making it difficult for the customer to write down her information. In the end Bog had to grab Tough Girl off the counter and hold her tight to his chest. She continued to flick her tail in defiance and even sunk her front claws into his shoulder. He stifled a hiss of pain and hoped his grimace came off more as a smile when the woman handed over the slip of paper with her information on it.   

“Excellent, Ah’ll give you a call when it comes in” Bog glanced quickly at the paper, “Felicia.”

“I look forward to it, Bog” her tone was almost flirtatious and her smile was back to that mix between predatory and sweet. 

As Felicia left the store another customer entered, a blonde haired man who politely held the door open for the lady. Bog noticed the blonde guy giving her an appraising once over before strutting confidently up to the desk. 

“Excuse me good sir” the ponce said, extending a pointing finger to grab Bog’s attention, as though he can’t already see him.

Bog rolled his eyes and scoffed lightly at the man’s smooth southern drawl. The voice which grates on Bog’s ear must really bother his cat, her claws sink deeper and she launches herself off his shoulder, landing somewhere behind him in the shop.

“Yow!” Bog can’t help his exclamation of pain and touches under his shirt.  His fingers come away spotted with blood. 

“The wee beastie got me” he said more to himself, nearly forgetting the customer.

“Can’t trust cats” the man said, a look of disgust marring his Narcissi’s features “filthy, disloyal creatures. I’m a dog man myself. Chipper, he’s my German Sheppard, is incredibly loyal. I know he’d never attack me the way that cat of yours did.”

For the first time since taking her in Bog is second guessing his decision in rescuing the stray. Without knowing her history was he really safe? But then he thought about how nice it felt when she curled up on his chest, how much easier he’s been sleeping. She was obviously spooked by the new man. There is something familiar about him. Bog glances out the window and spots a forest green sports car; the same one that was parked in front of _Sugar Plum’s_ the day he found the stray.  

“Yes, well, is there something I can help you find?” Bog asks turning back to the man.

Bog suddenly had an uneasy feeling at having this stranger in his shop. Could he have abused the cat?

“Yes actually” the man pulled his mobile phone from his pocket, “have you seen this woman?” he asked turning the phone around.

“No” Bog said dryly, without looking down. He suddenly felt like being as unhelpful as possible.

“You didn’t even look” the man accused, shoving his phone further into Bog’s face.

“Please, she’s my fiancé, she’s been missing for five days now?” The man pleaded, sounding desperate. 

With a huff Bog glanced down, the woman in the picture had short, gelled-up reddish-brown hair with caramel highlights, and big bright eyes that reminded him of a Caramilk Bar, all swirls of chocolate and caramel. In the picture she was smiling but there was a hidden sadness in those bright eyes as if she wasn’t truly happy.  Bog remembered the lecherous look the man before him had given Felicia as she’d exited the shop, and how rude he had been the other day. No wonder the woman in the picture looked unhappy, she deserved better than this jerk. At the same time he wasn’t surprised she was engaged to someone like the man standing before him, nice hair, clean clothes, and an expensive car.

Bog was sure he would remember seeing this woman if she had come into his shop. As it was something about her eyes looked so familiar.    

"Her name is Marianne. She stands about five-foot-five" the man insisted, growing impatient. 

“No Ah haven’t” Bog answered truthfully, as he pulled his lingering gaze away from the phone screen. “Sorry Ah can’t help.”

“Well if you do see her, mind giving me a call?” the man said, grabbing a notice advertising karaoke night at a nearby bar and writing out his name and number on the back.   

 _What a douche canoe,_ Bog thought as the man held out the piece of paper, offering Bog a toothpaste ad smile.

Bog nodded as he took the paper with the man’s information, “yeah sure” he said, all the while thinking, _if she left you it’s for a good reason, and if I ever do see her I won’t be telling you._

Bog dropped the paper into the garbage can under his counter just as the man went out the door, he had a cat to find.

 


End file.
